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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489026">if i ever let you down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fwop/pseuds/fwop'>fwop</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Getting Together, Hanahaki Disease, Hanzo Shimada-centric, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overwatch Family, Romance, Shimada Clan's Bad Parenting, Sojiro Shimada's Bad Parenting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:29:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fwop/pseuds/fwop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo clutches, white-knuckled, at the sink as he begins coughing again, clearing his throat over and over until he can feel another petal on the back of his tongue. He reaches into his mouth, knuckles brushing the edges of his teeth, and pulls it out. It sticks to his fingers, coated in saliva and blood. </p><p>He knew the moment he saw his wily grin that Jesse McCree would be the death of him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Genji Shimada &amp; Hanzo Shimada, Hanzo Shimada &amp; Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Hanzo Shimada &amp; Hana "D.Va" Song, Hanzo Shimada &amp; Tekhartha Zenyatta, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Lúcio Correia dos Santos &amp; Hanzo Shimada</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>208</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've always wanted to write a Hanahaki fic and I thought these two characters would kick my ass with this trope, so here I am.</p><p>This will be sectioned off into parts. I put four, but I'm not finished so chapter count may or may not go up! We will see!!!</p><p>Title is from MADE IN HEIGHT's song 'Pirouette'.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The flower petal is a surprise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's sure disbelief is what most people <em> would </em> feel in this situation, but the shock of seeing a bloody petal, stark against the porcelain of the bathroom sink, feels particularly vicious as it streaks through him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a minute, he is uncomprehending, hardly reacts at all, his eyelashes sweeping his high cheekbones as he looks down. Blank-faced at the innocuous sight, he is momentarily unable to piece together <em> how </em> a flower petal is there at all. Certainly, he had been hacking up a lung. And, yes, he’d seen the thing flutter out of his mouth to sit, tacky with blood, at the bottom of the sink. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Still. It takes a little too long, for someone of his intelligence and experience, to come to any conclusions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Hanahaki </em> is rare these days-- passed through genetics to the lucky percentage of the population unfortunate enough to be susceptible. It more commonly occurs in certain ethnic groups, though, to be expected, all races have had incidence. However, though rare, it is widely known. There are movies and songs and books dedicated to the concept, as if it's romantic to slowly, painfully suffocate on your own unrequited feelings. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's macabre, is what it is. Hana had played the part in one of her movies. It had been difficult to watch her go through that, especially when the writer took more of an artistic approach, and she’d died at the end.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wonders, in his wild disbelief, whose side of the family carried the gene-- if they had known they were susceptible to it. Neither of his parents had loved each other-- they certainly had not loved Hanzo, and though Genji had been spoiled, he’s unsure if what their parents had shown him was truly love.   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a long time, he'd thought <em> himself </em> incapable of loving. After all, he'd killed the only person he had ever <em> proclaimed </em> to love. (And grieved him so thoroughly, he hasn’t quite stopped.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's been in denial. Of course, he has. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gentling the petal between his fingers, he wonders at the bright color. It is <em> beautiful</em>. The hue alone is vibrant enough to inspire art, like the bright red of blood, like the eye-catching vermilion of a familiar <em> serape-- </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo clutches, white-knuckled, at the sink as he begins coughing again, clearing his throat over and over until he can feel another petal on the back of his tongue. He reaches into his mouth, knuckles brushing the edges of his teeth, and pulls it out. It sticks to his fingers, coated in saliva and blood. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He knew the moment he saw his wily grin that Jesse McCree would be the death of him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe he should be angry about this-- he <em> expects </em> to be angry about this. For one thing, it might feel better than the strangely hopeless acceptance he's developed since seeing the evidence of his embarrassing feelings come to life. Hanzo has never been the type to take things lying down (besides the years of grooming, abuse, and control by the <em> Shimada-gumi</em>). </p>
<p> </p>
<p>... Scratch that-- Hanzo has never been the type to take <em> certain </em> things lying down… like… whatever is in his control to take lying down. If he has a choice about something, he digs his metaphorical talons onto the thought of that decision being his, and his alone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For another thing, he <em> should </em> be angry. So much of his life has been decided for him. When he was younger he was told how to sleep, how to eat, how to spend his day. He was told what to like and what to hate, where he could go, who he could see. If they told him to jump, he would jump. If they told him to kill-- well. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There are not so many choices he's made solely for himself. Maybe there has been none at all, when he thinks about it.<br/><br/>Does he like <em> sake </em> because <em> he </em> likes <em> sake</em>, or because he was expected to take the traditional drink with his <em> oyabun </em> and simply became acquired to the taste? Is the bow and arrow his favorite weapon to use or is it because he will not, <em> cannot </em> pick up anything even resembling a katana? Are all the things he’s chosen to enjoy-- to love-- been chosen for him, like everything else in his life has? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even through making the choice to join Overwatch, to seek the worthiness of Genji’s forgiveness (there is no other choice <em> but </em> to do whatever it is Genji asks of him, for the rest of his life, if he must), he has been beholden to yet another Shimada. (Though if there is anyone in the Shimada clan Hanzo would want to serve, it would be Genji.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, really, he’s well within his rights to be bitter over these circumstances. How <em>dare</em> someone else take another choice from his hands? Does he confess to Jesse and risk the loss of such a fine friendship (because who in their right mind could seriously love a <em>kin-slayer</em>)? Does he say nothing and be forced to slowly asphyxiate? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could choose to take the surgery but when he begins to imagine it (imagine <em>not</em> loving Jesse McCree, imagine not feeling <em>anything</em> for him), he quickly shies away from the thought. Stubbornly, he believes that loving Jesse is the choice he is making <em>now</em>. He <em>wants</em> to love Jesse, he <em>chose</em> to open his heart to him. No one else has made him feel this way-- otherwise, this would’ve been a problem a lot sooner. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even though the choice led to circumstances such as these, he is willing to take responsibility for it until the bitter end. Loving Jesse has been the first <em> real </em> choice he’s ever made-- no extenuating circumstances hinged on honor or regret, no doubt that it is well and truly something that wasn’t orchestrated or selected <em> for </em> him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo waits, but, as the week after that strange morning passes, the anger never comes. Besides, all he has ever <em> been </em> is angry, and he doesn’t want to go back to those decades of pent-up frustration and terror and hatred following him as his shadow. The moment he realized, some time after joining Overwatch, what it was like to live without that shadow was the moment he felt like he could take the first deep breath of his life. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now, he will never be able to take a deep breath again… but it is not so bad.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sometimes, Hanzo feels <em> so </em> relaxed, so accepted, he can scarcely believe it. Other times,  he’s just waiting for everything to rush back up at him, for all his wrong-doings to crest over him like a wave and drag him into the deep. Surely he died somewhere along the way and this is the feverish last dream of a man with too many regrets before his soul fades into nothing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s no way to let go of his past, and he will never forget it, but sometimes he can pretend he is worthy of the family he has found in Overwatch. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Scooch over--” Jesse says, pushing him bodily, just so he can plaster himself along Hanzo’s side anyway. Always in Hanzo’s personal space, fingers pressing into his skin and leaving phantom hand prints in his wake, even long after Jesse is out of his sight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jesse has a towel flung over his broad, bare shoulders and a crooked smile on his handsome face as he settles into the bed of the old pickup truck the team has hijacked for a beach excursion. His bathing suit is already on, another piece of red in his wardrobe (a brilliant red-- like a fragile petal on pale marble). </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you have a hat for every occasion?” he can’t help but ask. His voice drips with disdain, but it doesn’t wipe the grin from Jesse’s face at all. Instead, his hand comes up to hold said straw hat to his head, his bicep flexing with the movement and drawing Hanzo’s gaze unbidden. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure do,” he drawls, giving Hanzo view of his canines. “I got my shootin’ hat-- you know the one-- my chef’s hat, my Blackwatch hat--” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“-- his sex hat--” Genji says, as he crawls up into the truck, Zenyatta following serenely behind.</p>
<p><br/><br/>“That one’s special,” Jesse replies, winking at Hanzo. His heart lurches into his throat-- </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo clears it, once, twice-- a few more times. He feels the petal lodge into his mouth, and slides it up between his gum and cheek with the tip of his tongue, so he can dispose of it when nobody is looking. He’s getting good at this, as expected. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is that the sequined one?” Hanzo asks and Jesse laughs, loud even over the sudden rumbling of the old engine starting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em> That’s </em> my party hat,” he teases. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He was higher than <em> I’ve </em> ever been when he made that thing. And you know how high I’ve been, brother,” Genji comments, crossing his legs. “I have never seen him so focused in my life.” He laughs.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thought it was the best damn thing I’d ever created,” Jesse says. “I was right, of course.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course,” Hanzo agrees. He tries not to smile but sometimes it’s hard when Jesse is smiling, too. Hanzo’s mouth sometimes answers that smile without his permission. It’s very frustrating. How will he keep up his gruff image if he’s always grinning at the drop of a (sequined) hat?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought your greatest work was on that mission when--” Genji starts, only for Jesse to interrupt him immediately. They devolve into familiar bickering over a time Hanzo wasn’t present for, and so he lets his mind wander. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining high in the sky, hot at the crown of Hanzo’s head, but the wind is carrying a refreshing coolness in from the sea. Going to the beach had been Genji’s idea. It’s not often they get time to relax these days, and so they take advantage whenever possible. Beach days are essential (or so Lucio said this morning).  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Behind them, another truck full of agents is ambling along the narrow paths made through the cliff side, driven by Fareeha who is chatting brightly at Mercy. Hana is leaning out from the back. When she sees Hanzo looking, she waves furiously. He waves something brief in return, giving her a small grin for her troubles.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everyone knows he has a soft spot for the younger agents of Overwatch. He isn’t sure how it happened-- he has never been good with children. Not that these capable <em> adult agents </em> are children… They’re just very young. Hanzo doesn’t ever remember being that age, or acting like they do. Perhaps it is because he skipped childhood altogether and went right to acting like a grumpy 40-year-old as soon as he understood human thought. Genji would certainly agree. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The only times he had ever acted even close to his age (back then) was <em> with </em> Genji, when he would somehow convince Hanzo that being disobedient was something Hanzo should <em> want </em> to do. It had <em> not </em> been often, as Genji’s punishment was never as severe as Hanzo’s. Father’s (and the Elders’) disappointment had never weighed as heavily on Genji’s shoulders. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, <em> sometimes </em> Genji could make Hanzo see a truth he would not realize <em> as </em> such until he was long away from the <em> Shimada-gumi</em>-- the truth being that Hanzo should’ve been allowed to do or be whatever he wanted for just <em> one </em> night. That he should’ve been able to be a <em> child</em>, or a teenager, or a <em> human being</em>.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo hadn’t been good at having fun, no matter how much Genji tried. Even trying to enjoy the simplest night out, he had been looking over his shoulder, not quite able to let his guard down. Genji had plied him with alcohol, with drugs, with men and women. Hanzo had steadfastly refused, content with his brother’s company and being anonymous in a crowd of writhing bodies. Too worried about the next day, or the next moment when someone from the clan realized where he was and dragged him back to his gilded cage to strike him across the back until blood beaded at the wounds, until he understood, <em> there is no time for you to be anything other than what we want you to be.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is ground control to Major Han,” Jesse sings, drawing Hanzo from his brooding and back into the sunshine. “There y’are.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You were a thousand miles away, brother,” Genji says, eyes too serious as they watch him. His brother has become truly adept at reading him-- something he had struggled with endlessly as a young adult. Another stark reminder of the time Hanzo has missed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was thinking of McCree’s sex hat,” he jokes, a distraction if there ever was one. He doesn’t want anyone to know the path his thoughts have taken on a such a fine day. Jesse throws his head back and howls with laughter, smacking Genji on the shoulder hard enough to jostle him forward. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zenyatta is still looking at Hanzo but honestly Hanzo cannot tell if he’s been distracted or if he’s <em> also </em> reading him like a book. Genji had to get it from someone, after all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If it’s <em> really </em> bothering you, darlin’, I sure can pull it out for ya,” Jesse says when he catches his breath. There he goes again, flirting with Hanzo like it’s second-nature. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His throat spasms, trying to pre-emptively keep the flowers at bay. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m afraid you’ve mistaken my consideration as interest,” Hanzo replies, striking Jesse with the infamous Shimada scrutiny, meant to cut glass. “I was merely fascinated by the truly horrific imagery my imagination conjured for me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jesse makes a noise as if he’s been shot, clutching at his chest as he leans back against the side of the truck. Genji catches him up in a dramatic hold, fanning his face with his hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Christ, he got me good,” he wheezes. “Zenyatta, help. I need a doctor!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zenyatta shakes his head sadly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am afraid I cannot fix a wound so grievous,” he says. </p>
<p><br/>“Target practice,” Hanzo boasts, unable to keep himself from smiling in satisfaction. The whole thing is so stupid, something a young Hanzo would’ve scoffed at, rejected on sight--  but it warms the Hanzo of <em> now </em> from the inside-out. For a while, he can forget the death sentence rattling his lungs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hanzo struggles to keep his feelings to himself while on an important mission with Jesse.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello!! I didn't realize it was almost February. Is that crazy to anyone else? This month escaped me completely! Thanks so much to those who commented/kudo'ed/bookmarked. It means a whole lot to me! </p><p>Side note, who else loves Hanzo's Kanezaka skin?? Hims lil hair tufts???? Those glasses? Goodness gracious. Hanzo is so beautiful.......</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The private beach they’ve traversed the cliff side for is parallel to the Watchpoint itself, a truly beautiful piece of heaven. The white sand is warm but not hot, and the water is so clear that Hanzo can see fish swimming from a distance. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo has been switching from reading to watching his fellow agents play from underneath an umbrella for the better part of an hour, stretched out on his stomach on a towel Ana had thrown him when they’d first gotten here. She sits beside him on a long beach chair, sunglasses perched at the end of her nose as her sharp eye follows the chaos ahead. </p><p> </p><p>It is nice to hear Genji’s laughter again. Not that he doesn’t often laugh at the Watchpoint (or, inappropriately, during missions), but this sounds <em> so </em> much like the Genji of his past that Hanzo has to close his eyes to ride the wave of pain that bowls him over. To think he might never have heard such a laugh again. To think it would’ve been his <em> fault— </em></p><p> </p><p>When he opens his eyes, it’s to Jesse walking towards them, water sluicing down his tanned skin. He’s gotten darker just from the scant time they’ve been here and Hanzo is loath to drag his eyes away from his form. It is a nice distraction from his traitorous thoughts, and a great view besides. </p><p> </p><p>McCree stumbles to his knees, plopping sand onto Hanzo’s beach towel without a care as he sits. </p><p> </p><p>“Whew, but I think I’m outta shape,” he says, barrel chest heaving, like his physique doesn’t draw eyes wherever he goes. Sure, he’s got fat over his muscles but McCree is a type of strong that comes from manual labor— functional exercise sculpting his form from days of hard work. While Hanzo was carved into shape by carefully manipulated training and a strict diet (something that he still follows, with the exception of <em> sake</em>), McCree let his life keep him up to par.</p><p> </p><p>It’s one of those things that just screams ‘Jesse!’ that Hanzo has figured out— like the man’s adoration for very old Western films or his penchant for drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. Jesse’s life experiences have made him into the man he is today but he isn’t <em> controlled </em> by it. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo clears his throat, adjusting his sunglasses— thankful the dark of them have hidden his eyes from view with how he’s been ogling Jesse since he caught sight of him. </p><p> </p><p>“Your brother is terrible. I’m gonna have a volleyball shaped bruise on my rib by tomorrow, just you wait.”  </p><p> </p><p>“You are lucky it was only your rib,” Hanzo says, gazing down at the page he stopped on but not taking in any words. Jesse is so close— not quite touching, but Hanzo can smell the seawater and sunscreen on his skin. </p><p> </p><p>It’s startling to think that Hanzo has never burned like this for anyone in his life. He’s tried parsing out what it is about Jesse that <em> gets </em> to him, but there are so many facets Hanzo could mention, he’s stopped trying. </p><p> </p><p>Is it because he’s a <em> good </em> man? Is it because he loves Genji just as fiercely as if he were his own family? Is it because of the raw power exuding from him? His sense of humor? </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo cannot begin to narrow it down to just one thing. </p><p> </p><p>It used to piss him off, back in the beginning. How could one man be so infuriatingly perfect while wearing <em> cowboy boots</em>? </p><p> </p><p>Now it just incites a familiar fondness that started this whole damn thing in the first place— a curling of vine wrapping around his heart like they’re currently wrapping around the delicate tissue of his lungs. </p><p> </p><p>“Watcha readin’?” Jesse asks as he goes through his routine of finding a cigar (from seemingly <em> nowhere</em>— how does he do that?) and lighting it up. It’s a terrible habit but, somehow, even the smell of those things has become synonymous with <em> warmth</em>. Hanzo struggles not to roll his eyes at <em> himself</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“101 Ways to Kill a Cowboy,” he replies, shutting the book with a pointed slap before tossing it to the side. Ana smiles against the rim of a champagne flute in his peripheral vision. Where <em> she </em> got <em> that</em>, he also doesn’t know. Perhaps she taught McCree the trick to procuring things from absolutely nowhere herself. Hanzo wouldn’t put it past her. </p><p> </p><p>She’s an enigma he’s not sure he wants to figure out. Everything about her screams ‘<em>tough love’ </em> and <em> ‘mother’</em>. His <em> own </em> mother had never exuded anything but frigid cold and resentment. </p><p> </p><p>“Why, I was almost certain you already knew <em> every </em> way to kill a cowboy. S’pose your superiority has to stop somewhere,” Jesse says, and this time Hanzo gives into the temptation to roll his eyes. Jesse ignores it, continuing on like usual. “You’re not usually one to turn down a friendly competition. Scared I’ll hand your ass to ya?”</p><p> </p><p>“If <em>Genji</em> is giving you a hard time, <em> I </em> certainly won’t be the one getting my ass handed to me.” Hanzo smiles for good measure, making sure he shows a bit of canine. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse just smiles down at him, lifting his brows like he’s happily surprised. He takes another puff of cigar, directing the smoke away from them as he exhales. Digging the cigar into the sand, he flicks the extinguished thing away and rolls over onto his stomach so suddenly Hanzo can’t help but jerk his head backwards. </p><p> </p><p>“So,” Jesse starts, his tricep pressing to Hanzo’s bicep, their hips touching, “got word from Winston there’s been some movement in some pretty shady areas recently.”</p><p> </p><p>“Par for the course,” he answers, though he’s listening attentively. He’s also <em> very </em> close to Jesse. From here, he can see the sun has wrought out the faintest smattering of freckles at the highest points of Jesse’s cheeks. Simply another thing for him to lament about during late night drinking sessions, holed up in his own room. </p><p> </p><p>“True, but good ol’ Winston thinks there’s some Japanese influence involved. Specifically, yakuza influence.” </p><p> </p><p>That sours his mood considerably. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes find Genji, unbidden. He’s climbed onto Zenyatta’s back and attached himself there like an overenthusiastic koala, laughing, unrepentant, from his perch as Hana tries to catch him in revenge (for dumping sand over her head). </p><p> </p><p>The less contact Genji has with any yakuza, the better Hanzo will sleep. It’s not that he doesn’t think Genji can take care of himself. He’s proved himself a formidable warrior and Hanzo is proud of how strong and how wise his brother has become. It is Hanzo’s <em> own </em> fault that he simply cannot let the past lie where it is. Something about Genji being anywhere <em> near </em> yakuza dealings make Hanzo’s heart race, makes his dragons prowl to the surface of his skin, ever-vigilant to his changing emotions. </p><p> </p><p>“I will go,” he says, no second thoughts about it. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse laughs, his mouth curling around a grin. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t even ask you for anything yet,” he says, his sultry amber eyes roving over Hanzo’s features. He’s not sure if it’s the Hanahaki that makes him lose his breath or simply the proximity. </p><p> </p><p>“You did not have to,” he answers, more seriously than he means to. There’s a double meaning there that he hopes McCree won’t catch onto. He’ll do it for Genji… but he’ll also do it for Jesse. </p><p> </p><p>Just because Jesse doesn’t have much of a history with the yakuza doesn’t mean he’s more willing to expose him to those <em> snakes</em>. That sort of ruthless manipulation isn’t Jesse’s scene. </p><p> </p><p>No. If anyone will be exposed to them, it will be <em> him</em>. He was once a scion. It will not be hard to play that part again in exchange for the safety of the people he loves. </p><p> </p><p>“S’pose I don’t,” Jesse says, drawing Hanzo’s gaze back to him. His tongue darts out to lick at his bottom lip and Hanzo follows the movement, watching sharp teeth sink into a plump lip as Jesse bites down. </p><p> </p><p>He tears his eyes away enough to meet Jesse’s gaze, seeing something there that makes it feel like the vines around his lungs are <em> squeezing </em> viciously. </p><p> </p><p>Then he gets pelted in the face with sand. Some of it goes into his parted <em> mouth</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Hana’s jaw has dropped open, her wrist clutched in Genji’s, like they were wrestling for control. </p><p> </p><p>“Oops,” Hana murmurs. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, shit,” Genji says, dropping Hana’s wrist and pushing him behind her a little. “Now, brother—” </p><p> </p><p>“I will give you both a head start,” Hanzo says, deceptively calm. “Five…” </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, go, go, go!” Genji urges, pushing Hana, who yelps as she begins to sprint down the beach. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo does <em> not </em> count down like he said he would, reveling in McCree’s booming laughter as it follows him giving chase. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“That’s an interesting thinking face,” Jesse says, prompting Hanzo to open his eyes. He watches Jesse make his way inside the transport, follows the movement of him storing his bag into the compartment above them. </p><p> </p><p>His serape hangs comfortable around his shoulders. When he turns around, he smiles at Hanzo without reservation. </p><p> </p><p>A far cry from their first meeting. When they’d met, Hanzo had been tense and catty, ready to… perhaps not defend himself, but he wasn’t about to let a group of wannabe “heroes” try to judge <em> him</em>. He’d done his research on Overwatch before he’d accepted Genji’s invitation. Despite all the good they did in their time, there had obviously been some behind-the-scenes work in the shadows that they’d wanted to keep quiet. </p><p> </p><p>Too bad things like that always end in blood. <em> Always</em>. </p><p> </p><p>It’s hard not to think of Genji’s broken body underneath his shaking, bloody hands. He crosses his arms to keep himself from checking his palms, something he used to do, during his many days of wandering, whenever he woke up. </p><p> </p><p>“I am simply going over the plan,” Hanzo answers, sighing. It’s been two weeks since their conversation on the beach— too many urgent missions taking up the time they could be spending gathering information. Luckily for them, the target seems to be doing all of their trading with one gang, an eager back and forth that seems fruitful for both parties involved. If they stay in one spot, Overwatch doesn’t have to worry about tracking them down again. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse grunts, buckling himself in as the ship starts up on autopilot. Lena had wanted to go, but Winston didn’t think any more than two would be a good idea. Two <em> itself </em> was pushing it. Besides, Lena struggles to be quiet on a good day. She isn’t the type for clandestine work. She’s a good field agent but not one for sneaking around. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse was in Blackwatch... and it shows. Hanzo doesn’t know how many times Jesse’s found himself an out-of-the-way vantage point so he can whip out his pistol and fire off Deadeye before anyone can even <em> look </em> his way. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo himself has spent a decade dodging bounty hunters and <em> being </em> a bounty hunter himself. A certain amount of stealth is needed for <em> both </em>of those things and Hanzo has that in spades. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re only here for information.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, we’ve heard <em> that </em> one before,” Hanzo says, meeting Jesse’s eyes across the aisle. </p><p> </p><p>“Aw, c’mon. Winston’s doing the best he can. Cut ‘im some slack,” Jesse says, though they’ve had this conversation before. Hanzo can concede that Winston is very intelligent but he lacks experience as a leader, something that has gotten their teams into trouble before. While he plans meticulously, he rarely accounts for things going pear-shaped and depends a lot on <em> faith</em>. </p><p> </p><p>People have died for less. Jesse knows it but he chooses to stay because that’s who he is. Hanzo used to stay simply because of Genji but now… If he were made to leave, well… perhaps he would miss more than just Genji, more than just McCree. </p><p> </p><p>“If they spot us—” Hanzo starts, but Jesse cuts him off. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>If </em> they spot us, we’ll retreat. I ain’t willing to <em> expose </em> myself to the yakuza <em> just </em> yet.” He winks, grin going from boyish to saucy in seconds.</p><p> </p><p>Hanzo makes sure to keep his glare as unimpressed as possible.  </p><p> </p><p>“Hopefully, you will rethink <em> exposing </em> yourself to anybody, lest you blind them,” he says, deadpan, though now that the thought is in his head, it’s hard not to picture it, damn him. </p><p> </p><p>“When you gonna give in to me a little?” Jesse asks through a smile. “Wouldn’t hurt ya none.” </p><p> </p><p>He is wrong. It <em> already </em> hurts. This <em> harmless </em> flirting has put him at Jesse’s mercy and the cowboy is none the wiser. </p><p> </p><p>“I will ‘give in’ when I’m <em> dead</em>, and no sooner.” </p><p> </p><p>“Goddamn, but you’re a mean thing,” Jesse gripes, though his twinkling eyes suggest he finds humor in Hanzo’s more callous nature. “I know there’s a kitten under all them claws, though. Just you wait. I’ll get it outta ya.” </p><p> </p><p>He scrunches his nose when he says so. </p><p> </p><p>Oh. Hanzo <em> adores </em> him. </p><p> </p><p>Then he inhales a petal so suddenly, he lurches forward as he chokes on it, chest catching on his seat straps. </p><p> </p><p>“Woah there—” McCree says, making to unstrap himself but Hanzo holds his hand up, coughing harshly into his own elbow. He wheezes and pants as the attack subsides, subtly checking his sleeve for blood or flower. There’s nothing there and he clears his throat, tilting his head back against the seat in relief. </p><p> </p><p>“Y’okay?” Jesse asks, worry heavy in his tone. He’s a gentleman like that, always genuine in his care for other people. </p><p> </p><p>“Inhaled my own spit,” Hanzo says, his voice sounding like gravel. Jesse’s brows furrow incredulously, but he doesn’t question it. Hanzo is <em> very </em> grateful for it, his ears burning in embarrassment. </p><p> </p><p>Despite Jesse trying to coax him back into conversation, Hanzo doesn’t speak the rest of their time on the transport. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Can’t say I miss all <em> this</em>,” Jesse comments, and Hanzo isn’t sure if he means all the sneaking around or if he’s referencing the gang they have limited view of. </p><p> </p><p>They are somewhere in Arizona, close to McCree’s old territory. Whether this is Deadlock remains to be seen. What <em> also </em> remains to be seen is whether this particular yakuza is important enough to deal with at the moment. Sparse as Overwatch’s resources are, they have to pick and choose which problem takes precedence. </p><p> </p><p>Frankly, Hanzo would rather take care of <em> the problem </em> as soon as he sees it. Ignoring anything in his life (for example, his <em> feelings</em>) has had the unfortunate result of him getting bitten in the ass. Such is his run of luck, he supposes, thinking wryly of the petals trying to slowly suffocate him. </p><p> </p><p>“Aw, <em> fuck </em> you!” one of the gang members shouts, shoving his comrade, which forces the man to drop the box he’s carrying on his big toe. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna beat the lily shit outta you,” Big Toe growls, jumping at him to do just that. </p><p> </p><p>A gun shot pierces the night air, drawing everyone’s attention to an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair. She has a braid thrown over her shoulder, her tanned skin appearing ruddy in the lighting. </p><p> </p><p>“Knock it off,” she orders. “Boss’ll have your <em> heads </em> if you damage these products. He don’t take too kindly to <em> mistakes</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>His dragons rumble in his headspace, eager for destruction. Running a palm down his tattooed arm, he tries to soothe them the best he can. They’ve been very testy lately, almost frantic in their need to stretch their legs. Hanzo can only assume but perhaps they understand that he’s dying by choice. Maybe they are angry he’s making the choice for <em> all </em> of them. </p><p> </p><p>“Ain’t Deadlock,” Jesse whispers, suddenly in his ear. His breath is warm as it washes over Hanzo’s skin, sending goosebumps down the expanse of his neck. He tries not to shy away or, <em> worse </em> , lean back into Jesse’s broad chest. “Ashe is the boss o’ Deadlock. She’d be <em> spittin’ </em> mad if anyone’d claim otherwise.” </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo nods once, sharp eyes skimming the boxes these goons have been lugging around. Precious cargo, then. </p><p> </p><p>“He gonna be here for the swap?” Big Toe asks Salt-n-Pepper. </p><p> </p><p>“No need,” the woman grunts, shoving her gun into the holster at her hip. “Not any big names arriving— just a simple exchange o’ goods and services. Not like them damn yakuza respect us anyway. All of ‘em think they’re better’n us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bingo,” Jesse says in his ear. Hanzo can feel the reverberation of his low voice through his chest, which he has pressed against Hanzo’s back. If the space weren’t so small, Hanzo might feel compelled to shove Jesse away from him. He needs to maintain his sanity <em> somehow</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s for damn sure,” Big Toe agrees, hefting another box of what Hanzo can only assume is some sort of weapon or ammo onto the pallet he’s been working on since they got here. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” another voice says, somewhere out of view. “Assholes are here.” </p><p> </p><p>Lip curling, Hanzo watches more gang members shuffle in, ready to haul their “currency” to the large opening where transport vehicles are arriving slowly. There are no markings on the vehicles themselves. They’re sleek, black and expensive. </p><p> </p><p>He narrows his eyes as the doors to the transport open. </p><p> </p><p>There, straightening the lapels of what is no doubt an over-priced suit, is his fucking <em> cousin </em> . Shimada Masashi. Son of his father’s brother and a raging <em> piece of shit</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Woah, woah,” Jesse hisses, his broad hand coming around to rest on Hanzo’s abdomen, pulling him back from where he was subconsciously leaning forward, ready to spring-board into action. </p><p> </p><p>His uncle, Seiryo, was a part of the council that “recommended” he dispose of Genji. That his offspring is sitting here, making <em> deals </em> with gangs in the United States, does not bode well. </p><p> </p><p>After Hanzo left, the <em> Shimada-gumi </em> was left in disarray, mostly because Hanzo had killed every council member still present on the grounds before his departure. Unfortunately, that had not included his uncle, nor Masashi. </p><p> </p><p>He had known that the remnants of the <em> Shimada-gumi </em> would eventually rally and replace Hanzo with a new head of the clan, but seeing it here now has his breathing going funny as red, unthinking rage fills his veins. </p><p> </p><p>His dragons are writhing, dark things twisting around the heart of him and he has to gnash his teeth together so he doesn’t succumb to <em> their </em> will. Rarely do they have such overwhelming compulsions but, in the end, they <em> are </em> wild and <em> old </em> creatures, driven by instinct. Their instinct, now, is to rend the very flesh from this <em> traitor</em>, consume his soul like it is a treat they deserve. </p><p> </p><p>“Calm <em> down</em>, Hanzo,” Jesse urges, his lips brushing the shell of Hanzo’s ear. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> must </em> take back control. This mission just became much more important than they initially thought. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo grabs at the forearm curled around his waist, pulling in a grounding breath. He’s pressed against Jesse, back to chest, muscles coiled tightly. Jesse is murmuring in his ear, his hair tickling the sensitive skin behind it. </p><p> </p><p>“You done?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Hanzo hesitates, adds, “Thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>“Anytime,” Jesse responds. “Seems like there’s someone you know out there.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes. The son of a Shimada council member<em>— </em> a cousin.”</p><p> </p><p>Hanzo trusts that Jesse understands <em> exactly </em> what that means. Genji had, after all, fallen into Blackwatch hands directly after his “death” and, according to Genji himself, had been implacable. Nothing had driven him more than his desire for revenge against the <em> Shimada-gumi</em>, against Hanzo. That being the case, he had talked, often, of their betrayal and who was involved. </p><p> </p><p>“So the Shimada are movin’ again. Can’t say we didn’t see this comin’,” Jesse utters, keeping his voice low as he watches the head of each gang introduce themselves. </p><p> </p><p>“If Masashi is <em> here</em>, he is not yet head of clan. Father used to send me to do these tasks many times as next-in-line. Simple representation <em> — </em> for both the gang <em> and </em> the <em> Shimada-gumi</em>.” </p><p> </p><p>“Now we gotta figure out what they’re exchangin’,” Jesse says. His hand is still splayed along Hanzo’s front, his powerful thighs bracketing Hanzo’s from behind. He’s <em> so </em>close Hanzo can feel his heart beating where it’s pressed to his spine.  </p><p> </p><p>It’s the <em> worst </em> time for a flare up but Hanzo walked into this fully aware of his condition. He’d just ignored his blatant weakness for <em> Genji’s </em> sake, and for his own selfish reasons, if he’s being honest about it. He does not want to lose what he’s worked so hard to get back<em>— </em> family, a reason to <em> live— </em> if it’s within his means to do so. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo does what was trained out of him decades ago<em> — </em> he panics. </p><p> </p><p>He tries to hold it in, but he suddenly <em> can’t breathe</em>, choking on petal and saliva. </p><p> </p><p><em>Foolish.</em> </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Shit— </em>!” he hears Jesse curse, holding Hanzo up where his own strength is suddenly failing him. </p><p> </p><p>He’s coughing before he can stop himself. </p><p> </p><p>The world tunnels to pinpricks the longer he chokes, his hands going numb. Vaguely, he’s aware of shouting, of Jesse crowding against him and then moving <em> away— </em></p><p> </p><p>Blood speckles the ground between his palms as he looks down at it. Scarlet petals intermingle the mess, like a morbid artwork on a grungy canvas. </p><p> </p><p>His awareness comes back to him in a sudden burst. There’s the sound of gunshots pinging against the heavy metal containers they’ve been hiding behind, the bright flash of McCree’s six-shooter spitting out bullets. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo pants, saliva dripping from his open mouth as he tries to gain his bearings. The dragons rally behind him, spitting with anger, driving him to his feet. His feet scuff over the mess he’s made, gritting flower into nothing more than debris. </p><p> </p><p>He wipes at his mouth, reaching behind him and drawing his bow in one fluid movement. He nocks an arrow and catalogs what’s happening. </p><p> </p><p>The Shimadas are beating a hasty retreat, piling back into their vehicles like the cowards they are. For a clan that literally <em> beat </em> into him the concept of <em> pride </em>, they certainly do like to circumvent their own rules. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo’s eyes meet Masashi’s, whose own widen in horror at the vision of an arrow pointed straight at him. </p><p> </p><p>So he recognizes Hanzo. </p><p> </p><p><em>Good</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The arrow splits through the air, <em> barely </em> missing Masashi’s head. In fact, it grazes his cheek and takes a good chunk of his dear cousin’s ear, thunking into the frame of their vehicle. Masashi screams even as he scrambles into the transport, clutching what’s left of his bloody ear. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo watches them go with narrowed eyes before turning back to the fight at hand. McCree is holding his own well enough, barely aiming before he hits target after target. He uses his surroundings to his advantage, shooting old ropes holding up barrels of who knows what that come careening down on the gang members below them. </p><p> </p><p>“Nice o’ you to join in,” Jesse grouses, flicking another cartridge of six bullets into the chamber of his gun. “If you were sick, you shoulda stayed back at the base. That’s the second coughing fit you’ve had.” </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo bristles, baring his teeth. </p><p> </p><p>“I did not think it would be a problem,” he growls. It’s the truth. He did not believe he could not overcome his fucking death sentence in progress. In hindsight, it was foolish of him. He’s already admitted as much to himself. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse glances at him, his mouth flattening into a thin line. He wants to argue with Hanzo, but he doesn’t, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, if it ain’t Jesse McCree!” Salt-n-Pepper announces loudly. Hanzo refrains from rolling his eyes, but only just. </p><p> </p><p>“Can’t say I have the pleasure of knowin’ <em>your</em> name, Ma’am,” Jesse yells back, hidden behind cover. He meets Hanzo’s eyes and holds his gaze. </p><p> </p><p>“You don’t remember little ol’ Hattie Lynn?” Hattie asks, fake-pouting from her perch. </p><p> </p><p>“Naw, can’t say I do,” Jesse answers, eyes flicking to Hanzo’s lips. He reaches out, hesitating momentarily when Hanzo's head jerks backwards. After a moment, when he’s sure Hanzo <em> won’t </em> back away, his thumb catches across Hanzo’s bottom lip. </p><p> </p><p>He turns his finger over to inspect it before meeting Hanzo’s regard. </p><p> </p><p>His thumb is bloody.</p><p> </p><p>Hanzo looks away first, under the guise of finding an acceptable place to climb. He can’t quite parse what that look Jesse’s giving him means, and he cannot answer any questions Jesse might ask him. </p><p> </p><p>Besides, if he can find a suitable place to release his dragons, they’ll get out of here no worse for wear. The blame for their situation lies on him and him alone. He came here <em> knowing </em> he could potentially endanger them with his illness and yet he’d come along anyway, even <em> after </em> having a fit on the ship. </p><p> </p><p>He should have <em> known </em> better. </p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you ‘nd your friend come on out now, McCree? You’re surrounded!” Hattie tries. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know<em>— </em> I’m likin’ my odds,” Jesse answers, watching Hanzo drop into a crouch before slipping soundlessly around the crates and out of sight. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo trusts Jesse to keep Hattie preoccupied while he finds a good vantage point. </p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t take long. He climbs nimbly up boxes stacked on boxes until he’s high enough he can see everyone present in this open garage. There’s a handful of them. The rest of the gang must be out, maybe at another base completely. </p><p> </p><p>He’ll make it quick then. </p><p> </p><p>He nocks his arrow, takes as deep a breath as he can and calls upon his spirit dragons, feeling the energy surge up from his arms into the rest of him. No matter how many times he summons them, it is a heady, intoxicating rush of power that he could <em> easily </em> succumb to if he were anyone else. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!” </em> </p><p> </p><p>The dragons explode into action, their thirst becoming <em> his </em> thirst, their eyes showing him their victims as they overcome them<em>— </em>one-by-one. </p><p><br/>
It’s the reason why he doesn’t see the sniper until <em> after </em> he’s been hit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The aftermath of Hanzo getting shot.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Gosh,  it's been so fun reading all your comments! I'm really happy you are all enjoying this so much. Sorry, I left you on a bit of a cliffhanger there! It took all of my might not to just post the next chapter <i>immediately</i>. I'm surprised I made it this long!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Air punches straight from his lungs, even as his finger is pulling the trigger of his six-shooter. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The errant sniper crumples into a heap and his gun clatters to the ground, but Jesse is already<em> moving</em>, already reaching, even when he<em> knows </em>he won’t make it in time. His heart is in his throat, lungs squeezing as fear slips into his veins like venom.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>How is it that time stretches out like saltwater taffy, but his legs won’t move faster? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo is plummeting head-first to the ground and there’s nothing he can do but watch. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he dies— <em> if he dies </em>— </p>
<p> </p>
<p>McCree’s breath catches as the dragons<em> he’d forgotten were there </em>wrap Hanzo in a protective cocoon, cushioning his fall and bringing him to the ground as if he were nothing but a feather. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They disappear back into the ink they lifted themselves from and Jesse falls to his knees at Hanzo’s side, already ripping a strip of cloth from his serape to wrap around his shoulder— and thank <em> fuck </em> it was only his goddamn shoulder. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stupid sonovabitch—” he curses, though he doesn’t mean a lick of it. If he were any younger, any less experienced, his hands might be shaking from the adrenaline but that response had been trained out of him way too young. Instead, his fingers are steady as he ties the makeshift bandage tightly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s not the best, but it’ll do for now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jesse doesn’t waste time— he curls an arm under Hanzo’s knees and the other around Hanzo’s shoulders and picks him up as gently as he can. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The trek back to the ship is uneventful and Jesse likes it that way just fine. With Hanzo occupying his arms, he’d rather not have to deal with any wayward gang members hellbent on revenge. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The mission went to shit spectacularly well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tables his thoughts about the mission in favor of focusing on Hanzo, settling him on the medical table in the Orca, and strapping him in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Athena,” McCree says, tightening the strap around Hanzo’s legs, “set the course back to the Watchpoint. Let Angela know she’s got a gunshot wound incomin’.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Affirmative,” Athena replies, the ship starting up and lifting off, even as Jesse begins his search for the medkit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The strip of serape around Hanzo’s shoulder is turning steadily darker, from bright vermillion to something deeper, dingier. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ain’t out of the woods yet,” Jesse mutters, slamming a biotic field just above Hanzo’s shoulder. It casts his face in bright golden light, his dark lashes throwing shadows against his cheekbones. It’s not the first time Jesse has thought so, but Hanzo looks so different when he’s sleeping. The severe tilt of his brows is replaced with something gentle, his jawline going soft as his lips part. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ain’t the first time he’s thought he’s beautiful either, but this ain’t the time.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jesse shakes his head, revealing the wound again from underneath the strip of cloth. It’s a little smaller with the use of the biotic field but it’s still bleeding. He lifts Hanzo to check the back— the bullet went all the way through. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Using actual gauze and bandages from the medkit this time, Jesse sets about wrapping the wound again. It’s easy to get lost in the familiar steps, to zone out while his hands take over, resolutely<em> not </em>thinking about what could’ve happened if that sniper had been a little better at his job. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Agent McCree, Dr. Ziegler is on the line for you. Should I patch her through?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jesse looks up briefly before focusing back on what he’s doing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” he answers, gruffly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jesse,” Angela says, no-nonsense, “what’s his status?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gunshot wound clean through the shoulder— no bullet. Only one biotic emitter on board, still workin’ its magic but the wound is still bleedin’. I’m bandaging it up right now.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good,” she says, “you did well. I’m monitoring his vital signs through Athena. I’ll stay on that until you reach me, just in case.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks,” he mutters, stepping back to look at his handy work. It’s not the cleanest but it’ll do. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be in touch,” Angela says, the aircraft going silent in the absence of conversation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jesse watches Hanzo’s chest move up and down for a few minutes before he moves away to clean up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hands are smeared bright red. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
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</p>
<p>When Hanzo had been young, around nine or so— long before twin spirit dragons made themselves home underneath his skin, before his brother had bled himself out in Hanzo’s hands— he’d been assigned to a mission under the capable command of one Shimada Seiryo. His father hadn’t said much to him beforehand, but the weight of his expectations had weighed heavy upon Hanzo’s thin shoulders. With Sojiro’s brother in charge, it was a matter of pride that Hanzo do well. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They needed someone small to fit through a crawlspace to extract information from a heavily guarded terminal. While Seiryo’s group would act as a distraction, Hanzo would enter the building through the vents, slip through the walls and insert a pre-programmed USB into the terminal. He was expected to wait there until 100% of the information was extracted. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo<em> had </em>gotten the information that day, but he’d also been shot in the leg for his troubles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was the first time he’d ever gotten shot, though it was far from the first time he’d been hurt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Adrenaline had kept him moving like it always did, but it had also made the wound on his leg drip more steadily until Hanzo’s teeth began chattering. He left a trail of red behind him, leaning against the wall for support, wondering why he was suddenly so very<em> cold</em>, why his vision was tunneling so dramatically. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the end, he’d dropped the USB in Seiryo’s hand (and<em> only </em> Seiryo’s hand) and lost consciousness at his uncle’s feet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he’d woken up at the hospital, disoriented and in pain, Genji was holding his hand tightly, messy with tears. His father was nowhere to be found. Hanzo<em> knew</em>, despite completing the mission successfully, that he’d disappointed his father somehow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He would’ve drowned in that feeling if Genji had not been there, crying like an idiot. Instead, Hanzo reached forward to flick him in the forehead and laughed when Genji held both hands over the reddened patch of skin there, indignation clear on his youthful face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sucking in a breath through his nose, he pries his eyes open to see who is holding his hand<em> this </em>time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sure enough, he smiles at Genji’s slumped form, how he’s pillowed his head on Hanzo’s forearm as he rests. His black hair is tickling Hanzo’s bicep, and he squashes the urge to run his fingers through it as he used to when they were youths. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your breath is stinking up the room,” Hanzo says instead, shaking his arm to rouse his brother from sleep. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Genji sits up unnaturally fast but doesn’t let go of his hand. He draws his breath in, fixing Hanzo with a reproachful look. He looks almost as indignant as he had in that memory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>What </em> were you—” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo flicks his forehead, breaking into laughter at Genji’s offended spluttering. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The disrespect…” Genji mutters, rubbing just above his brows. “After I came here to visit you!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“After you came here to<em> lecture </em>me,” Hanzo corrects, “because you have so little reason to lecture me otherwise. You saw the opportunity and struck with intent.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Genji grins at him so widely he can see his molars. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I visit because I was only worried about you, brother,” he says, batting his eyelashes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And to risk injuring me more with that ugly face—” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are in a hospital bed but, as you say, I have no qualms with striking while you are down,” Genji interrupts, finally releasing Hanzo’s hand in order to stretch back in his chair. He yawns until his synthetic jaw pops, relaxing with his arms crossed over his chest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo glances down at his shoulder, where perhaps hours earlier he felt the sudden burning of a bullet tearing through muscle and tissue. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It went all the way through,” Genji explains. “Luckily for you, whoever shot you was not very good at it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“McCree?” Hanzo asks like it wasn’t the first thing he wanted to ask when he opened his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just fine, thanks to you, though he mentioned the <em> funniest </em> thing.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did he?” Hanzo plays along. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think he said something along the lines of, ‘Didn’t expect yer brother to go fuckin’ crazy when he saw yer cousin but I get the feelin’ he’s still a little mad at the Shimada clan.’” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That is a terrible accent.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Genji doesn’t smile or laugh in response. He leans forward with beseeching eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why did you not say you were going after the <em> Shimada-gumi</em>? You know that I can help. Hell, you know that I <em> want </em> to help.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought you were past revenge,” Hanzo says, though it’s not what he means.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When it comes to<em> you</em>, Hanzo. Because I was foolish and young and did not understand what was happening to <em> you </em> while I gallivanted around like a fucking tool.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo feels himself bristling, eyes cutting swiftly to his younger brother. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You cannot absolve me of my greatest crime because I was having a <em>difficult</em> <em>time</em>—” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can do whatever I please,” Genji says, petulantly. “I <em> do </em>still feel anger at what happened then, but it does not consume me. And, this time, it is targeted at the right people for the right reasons.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo remains quiet, not really knowing what to say. <em> This </em> Genji is so different from the one he used to know and, despite his time with him here, he is still learning how to interact with the person Genji has become. It’s just that he surprises him so easily these days. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It still doesn’t prevent the fear that slithers down his spine at the thought of Seiryo knowing Genji is<em> alive</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Those still in the Shimada clan are corrupt. I know this, and it is my <em> duty </em> to help eradicate them before they cause any more suffering than they already have.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo opens his mouth to object, but is abruptly interrupted by the door slamming open, Dr. Ziegler stomping in with a murderous expression on her face. She wastes no time with greetings, simply drawing up a hologram from her computer pad in front of him.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Would you mind explaining to me what <em> this </em> is, Mr. Shimada?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s an x-ray of his entire torso— most likely taken to look at the damage done to his shoulder, but his lungs are<em> clearly </em>visible. The flowering vines are hard to miss in the negative space where only air should sit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Genji makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and Angela looks over at him, throwing a hand up to her mouth in surprise. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I—” she pulls the x-ray down with a flick of her wrist, eyes darting from Hanzo to Genji and back. “I did not realize you were here, Genji. Hanzo, I apologize— I have not slept— That’s no excuse, but—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Genji,” Hanzo says, keeping his tone low at the lost look on Genji’s face. “Could you please excuse us?”</p>
<p>
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</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For such a blunder, Dr. Ziegler recovers remarkably quickly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What a thing to keep a secret!” Angela is railing, throwing things around her area with so much fervor, Hanzo has to wonder. Her bedside manner is usually<em> much </em>better than this, even after her team makes the most idiotic decisions. (Which happens a lot more than it should, considering.) “For such a long time! Mr. Shimada. Do you not understand the progression of this disease? There are<em> medicines </em>you can take for pain and inflammation that would make this easier for you. Of all the stubborn things—!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Should those things not be conserved for emergencies?” Hanzo asks, knowing full well Dr. Ziegler’s budget is anything but forgiving these days. She whips around to glare at him, mouth pursing tightly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That is for<em> me </em>to decide!” she declares, her accent thickening with her ire. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My… apologies,” Hanzo says slowly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angela pinches the bridge of her nose. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No matter— we cannot change the past. Well, Lena might be able to, but<em> we </em>certainly can’t,” she grumbles to herself. “It’s nothing we can’t remedy now. I assume you understand your options?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’s no-nonsense as always, and Hanzo nods curtly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His silence is answer enough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You expect me to just let this happen, do you?” she asks, her cheek twitching slightly as she folds her arms. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I expect that you will not be able to stop me, regardless. While I... appreciate your concern and value your professional opinion, the final decision on this will be mine."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her nostrils are flaring. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"My<em> professional </em>opinion is that you are an idiot," she says, staring at him with a pinched expression for a long minute before she gives up and sighs. Her entire body sags forward under the weight of her duties and oaths. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am sorry,” Hanzo says again (and what he’d give to see his past self watching him apologize so much in one sitting), knowing that it’s a horrible position to put her in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am sorry, too,” she says, sitting down in the chair Genji was previously occupying. “I truly did not realize Genji was here— he was<em> not </em>supposed to be visiting. I am sure you didn’t want him to know.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He believes her. Knowing Genji, he probably climbed in through a window or bypassed Angela’s systems in order to circumvent visiting hours. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It does not matter,” he dismisses, even though it<em> does</em>. His pride is on the floor. “He would have found out eventually.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Quiet settles into the room, the only sound being the steady beeping of Hanzo’s heart monitor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No one else knows?” Angela asks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“... No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sighs heavily. “Well, I suppose I should start on those medications of yours. As rare as Hanahaki is, I’m quite sure the pharmacy in town will be out of stock.” She smiles at him wryly. “Shall I let Genji back in?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nods tersely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Angela looks like she wants to say something else, but she shakes her head, keeping it to herself as her shoes click sharply against the floor.  </p>
<p>
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<p>Genji is pacing in front of Hanzo’s bed. He keeps throwing him wounded looks, but he isn’t really saying anything, just making noises in the back of his throat like that means anything to Hanzo. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Genji—” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why did you not <em> tell </em> me, brother?" Genji asks abruptly. For a moment he looks like he wants to take it back, but he's always been the braver of the two of them. He squares his shoulders instead, waiting for an answer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo is silent for too long. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I thought you were getting better," Genji says, softening his tone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Better?" Hanzo rasps. Genji winces. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I thought you… had found the desire to live again."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo's chest tightens and he frowns. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I did," he admits in a whisper. Genji looks stricken, sitting down heavily in the chair beside the bed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hanzo. Have you tried... telling them?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why would I?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"This is what I mean! If you <em> want </em> to live now, why <em> wouldn't </em>you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Genji—"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You deserve to know."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Life is not like—"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"—the stories our father told us. Yes. You've said so before."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo winces, turning his head away from Genji's desperate searching of his face. The windows are cracked open, and Hanzo can hear the gulls above ocean waves. The sun feels warm on his skin where it filters in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he is to die in this room one day, he is happy to have such a beautiful view. Though he longs for a spring full of lush<em> sakura </em>blossoms, the briny scent in the wind and the memory of sharing more than one gorgeous sunset with the people here is enough to placate him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"If this is because of distance— then I won't hold you here. I've already forgiven you. You have helped Overwatch more than you know," Genji says, drawing his attention back. "Please. Go to her. <em> Tell </em> her."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo's eyebrows raise and then furrow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know you still converse with people from your old life," Genji admits, features twisting with guilt. Hanzo's brows furrow further, parsing through memories until his face blanks out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Genji must've been privy to one of his conversations with an old contact he used to get information from. He had flirted with her because she flirted first, no serious intentions on either of their parts. It was just how their friendship— if he could even call it that— worked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I do not know anyone from that time so well—" Hanzo says before he realizes what he's just admitted. Genji's eyes widen. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Then someone from here? Is it Mei? Because she's interested in Zarya, you can't tell her?" Genji tries guessing, and Hanzo might’ve laughed if not for the look on his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>While he does enjoy Mei’s easy company and soft nature, he does not love her<em> like that</em>, nor could he ever.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Why Genji believes him to be straight, he understands. He never rebuked his father's attempts at matchmaking because it had been his duty, and ever his burden. Everything— his<em> burden</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Genji takes his silence wrong. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hanzo…," he says, and his heart looks broken. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It is not Mei," he says quietly and Genji is now taking a turn at being confused. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"... It isn't Angela, is it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Do you <em> think </em>it is Angela, Genji?" Hanzo asks, sarcasm dripping from his tone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Okay, okay!" Genji purses his lips, seemingly going through the list of potential candidates in his mind. He's making all sorts of interesting faces— he goes from nodding slightly to shaking his head quickly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I fear I am at a loss as to your particular type," Genji says. "You did not express much interest in the women that Father presente—"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Genji cuts himself off as he rears back, and Hanzo watches him process something, his face completely blank.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Brother," he starts, and he<em> really </em>looks at Hanzo. Hanzo waits. "You—" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo looks down at his own hands, stark against the pressed white of the hospital sheets. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I assumed you often looked down on Father’s choices because you thought yourself above whomever he tried to introduce to you,” Genji says. There’s a hint of resignation and shame on his features. “With the Elders, I knew part of your refusal was out of spite and part of it was to maintain some sort of control. You knew whatever wife they would have you marry would be loyal to them and not you. I never dreamed it would be because you did not favor women at all.” <br/><br/>Hanzo should not feel embarrassed about this. It is a fact of his life that he prefers to lie with men, and that’s all it should be. But the lessons burned into him from the clan were almost thirty entire years in the making, and he’s only had ten tumultuous years to try and unlearn their cruel lessons. Of course, his ability to examine, confront and rework his own emotions and feelings, and reactions are abysmal<em> at best</em>. He did not have the kind of support Genji had after everything. He had not had any support at all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>No— there is nothing shameful about his preferences, but he feels like he<em> should </em>be ashamed anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It is nothing to be ashamed of, Brother,” Genji offers, always shocking Hanzo with how well this Genji knows him. Is Hanzo so much the same as he was then that Genji can work him out just like that? “I am honored you have told me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I did<em> not </em>tell you,” Hanzo gripes, crossing his arms and wincing as he forgets his shoulder injury. Genji laughs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry!” He does not sound sorry. “Let’s see— knowing what I know now, we can narrow it down.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Genji puts a hand to his chin. It takes less than twenty seconds for his mouth to drop open. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh,” he says as if he’s not sending Hanzo into cardiac arrest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's Jesse,” he states, absolute surety in his words. “You're in love with Jesse." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The moment the name is in the room, Hanzo starts choking, petals clogging his airways. Genji is up like a shot, a warm hand on his back as Hanzo hunches over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hand reaches out blindly for the waste-basket and Genji passes it over— just in time for him to gag on the petals stuck in his throat. They trigger his reflexes and his stomach heaves, his muscles tensing harshly as he vomits. Flower petals and bile. Bright, beautiful flowers the color of a burning desert sunset. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Genji murmurs at him in his mother language, holding his hair back for him. It reminds him of comforting Genji after dragging him out of yet another club, pressing a washcloth against his heated, flushed face as he purged alcohol and drugs from his system. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I never asked—" Genji says. "I am so sorry, Hanzo."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It is true that Genji never asked. There were many things he had never asked and many things Hanzo had never offered to tell him. Hanzo had also never asked. Two hands. One action. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"None of this is your fault," Hanzo says firmly, once he can breathe again. There are tears beading at his eyelashes from the burning pain in his throat. His abdomen aches from his useless gagging, from all the coughing of the past week. The gunshot wound thumps in time with his heartbeat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I…" Genji starts and Hanzo whips his head over at the way his voice has gone thin. "I just got you back."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His face contorts pitifully, just as when they were boys. Hanzo is as helpless to his tears now as he was then. He grabs at Genji's shirt, pulling him closer. Genji surges into his arms, clinging to him tightly. Only parts of him tremble, his mechanical parts steady. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Movement catches his eye over Genji's shoulder and Hanzo meets Angela's gaze as she hovers uncertainly in the doorway. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He holds her stare for a moment longer before he closes his eyes and holds his brother as he<em> should have </em>those many years ago. </p>
<p>
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<p>Genji finally leaves just before dinner, a scant few hours after Hanzo regained consciousness. Hanzo doesn’t blame him. Neither of them has ever been very good at sitting still when they’re meant to be active, meditation aside. Indeed, Genji has been flitting about like a bird since his youth (a social Sparrow, so to speak), always with an exuberance for life Hanzo had envied once upon a time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe he should be glad he’d never had Genji’s appetite for company. Maybe the Hanahaki might’ve crept up on him earlier. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He snorts to himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> That </em> Hanzo only would’ve existed outside of the <em> Shimada-gumi’s </em>overbearing reach and smothering sphere of influence. His lovers had never been the type he could fall in love with and, in hindsight, he is grateful for his own reticence to trust. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe he is also angry at himself. His reticence to trust was reserved for the wrong people. He should’ve been suspicious of<em> everyone</em>, himself included. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>What a convoluted mess he’d been back then, both wary of his own family and aching for their acceptance. Every action he’d taken had been at their will but he’d followed them so<em> blindly</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hm. He feels a little stupid, now and then, when he thinks of the many times he could’ve just… left. He could’ve gathered Genji up and spirited them both away as easily as he escaped after Genji’s “death”. Somehow, he doesn’t think Genji would’ve minded living on the run, especially if it were to be<em> free</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just another regret to hold in his heart. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the dark confines of his room at the castle, shaking and sore in that <em> fucking </em> cage he called his home, he would fantasize about doing just that. When it felt too hard to breathe, there was nothing to stop him from dreaming about<em> leaving</em>, in whatever way he could. Some nights he’d charter a private jet and take Genji to the Americas where they would lead happy, dull lives, and other nights he’d think about settling into<em> seiza </em>and running himself through with his own katana.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A sharp rapping of knuckles against the wall breaks him from his thoughts and he turns his head, spying Jesse hovering nearby with his hat in his hands. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Howdy,” he says, and Hanzo tamps down on the urge to grin at him, like some sort of<em> idiot. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Howdy,” he parrots and delights in the smile that Jesse gives him as he takes the chair near the bed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How ya feeli—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am sorry—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” McCree asks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. One of his eyebrows is elevated and arched, a question mark of a gesture. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I compromised the mission by going onto the field knowing full well I was sick. It is my fault things went awry. I take responsibility for that,” Hanzo admits, his cheeks flushing despite himself. Just because he’s been apologizing all day doesn’t mean it’s not difficult for him to do, especially in front of Jesse. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aw, c’mon now, ain’t nothin’ to say sorry for. Shit happens,” McCree says easily. “‘Sides, you saved our asses back there anyway. Though, if you get shot like that again, I’ll kick your ass myself. Bout had a heart attack when you started plummeting from such a high spot. If it weren’t for them dragons of yours, you— you could’ve broken your damn neck.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“One might infer you like having me around when you speak like that,” Hanzo teases.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jesse leans forward, propping his elbows on the side of the bed. He grins lazily, like a satisfied cat. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I said it once, I’ll say it again— you’re not as bad as you make yourself out to be, Hanzo Shimada.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An embarrassing surge of emotion lodges up high in his throat at McCree’s words. He swallows around it, meeting a honey warm gaze. <br/><br/>Immediately, several retorts come to mind— words that would wedge a wall further between them and he<em> should </em>say it. He should keep McCree as far away from him as he possibly can but… but if he is to die, why shouldn’t he let himself be selfish? Would it hurt him to enjoy life<em> once</em>, without punishing himself for something he’s<em> already </em>been punishing himself over for a decade?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Looking in McCree’s eyes, he<em> knows </em>what it is he really wants. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you,” he murmurs, watching the way Jesse’s eyes soften, how his shoulders relax. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re welcome, darlin’,” he replies, a genuine smile lighting up his countenance. “When you gettin’ outta here? I miss my drinking partner, <em> partner </em>.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dr. Ziegler wants to keep me until tomorrow.” He tries not to let his lip curl in dissatisfaction but judging by the amused shimmer in Jesse’s eyes, he isn’t doing a very good job. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Knowing her, she won’t let you drink none anyway until that shoulder heals,” Jesse says, tilting his head at the wound. He seems a bit more subdued as he looks at it, his mouth flattening into a thin line. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will not say anything if you will not,” Hanzo suggests. </p>
<p><br/>McCree snorts, but it sounds hollow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Earlier,” Jesse hesitates, looking up at Hanzo and meeting his eyes, “on the mission— you, uh, you had blood on your mouth. Did Angela say anything about that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Abruptly, Hanzo remembers the feeling of Jesse’s thumb catching at his bottom lip and he blinks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Walking pneumonia,” he answers, shoving the panic of Jesse finding him out way, <em> way </em> down, “from ingesting water when I was pushed from the bridge on our mission in Rialto.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh,” Jesse says, though he looks suspicious. Hanzo doesn't blame him. He's as sharp as an arrowhead. “Didn’t know Shimadas could get sick.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> Hanzo rolls his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Only once, and then we become impervious to all forms of illness.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Besides mental—” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hanzo reaches over to smack him before he can finish that thought, shoulder injury be damned.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And there we have it! We got a little bit of Jesse's POV here, as a treat, and of course, some quality bonding between our Shimada brothers. I really live for their reconciliation. I think they both deserve that!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hanzo has breakfast with McCree and trains with Hana.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the wait! I do not have a set release schedule for a reason and that reason is that I'm chronically ill and sometimes I just don't have the spoons to write or edit or stare at a computer screen in frustration, lol. Sometimes I'm just in too much pain to do so!! I WANNA WRITE SO BAD. As it stands, I wanted to make this chapter a bit longer but thought maybe I should keep it as-is, so I popped up the chapter count pre-emptively. </p><p>Y'all's brilliant comments have been sustaining me, though! I feel like a new person every time I read one so thank you so much. 💘</p><p>As an aside, what is y'all's favorite skin from the Lunar New Year update? I can't wait to get Reaper's!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In certain ways, Hanzo is thankful for the Hanahaki (as thankful as one can get towards a <em>death sentence</em>). He has never been closer to his brother than he is now. Ever since the revelation of his diagnosis, something that has been twisted and gnarled between them has become easier to navigate. For the first time in his life, Hanzo can be a <em> brother </em>without anything insidious attached to it. There are no instigated competitions he must perform in, no double-meanings behind their kinship.</p><p> </p><p>They are just Genji and Hanzo.</p><p> </p><p>What does it say about them, about their upbringing, that it took not only Genji's death but <em>Hanzo's</em> to bring them together?</p><p> </p><p>Genji<em> also </em>cannot look at McCree, which amuses Hanzo to no end. </p><p> </p><p>He remains polite, jokes around with him like he always does, but he doesn't linger when he doesn't have to. </p><p> </p><p>It's because Genji is awful at keeping secrets like these, especially when it involves Hanzo. His forte was never infiltration, but rather the execution after the intel gathering. Genji can decimate an entire opposing team, but he is not the type to be able to stop himself from blurting out his brother’s secret, (un)dying love for his best friend. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse’s a sharpshooter— he’s observant on a bad day and eagle-eyed on a good one, and he can tell Genji is acting differently. Hanzo doesn’t think Genji realizes he’s hurting his feelings, because McCree is so good at offering smiles, but he's confused and troubled by Genji's reticence. That is<em> not </em>so amusing. </p><p> </p><p>“You must forgive him,” Hanzo says to Jesse as they watch Genji do a full 180 as soon as he sees Jesse at the dining table. “He is very stupid.” </p><p> </p><p>“Do <em> you </em> know what his deal is?” Jesse asks though he seems incredulous. Such<em> faith</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“I fear it is his brain. It’s very tiny,” he says, and Jesse laughs out loud, shaking his head as he goes back to his very late breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, potatoes, coffee— a very American type of fare. “He is just dealing with something he is unaccustomed to. It has always been his way to avoid what he cannot puzzle out until he realizes it is not such a problem in the first place.” </p><p> </p><p>“Something to do with me?” Jesse hesitates. </p><p> </p><p>“I cannot say what is going on in Genji’s head but, no, I believe it has more to do with <em> me</em>.” </p><p> </p><p>And what does that say about Hanzo that he’s near McCree<em> so </em>much recently that the excuse is believable? In fact, it seems ever since he found out about this accursed disease, he’s been<em> seeking Jesse out</em>. Quite counterproductive and very hard on his poor, abused lungs. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh," Jesse utters against the rim of his coffee cup. He lifts a brow at Hanzo. "You fightin'?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, not anything as simple as that, I'm afraid," he answers, the corner of his mouth tilting up before he can prevent it. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse smiles in return, a look so gentle Hanzo doesn't know what to do with himself. People don't— should not look at him like that. He does not deserve it. </p><p> </p><p>Even now, he is ruining Genji's life. Being sick, forcing him to avoid his best friend. It seems his selfishness knows no boundary. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey, I can<em> smell </em>you thinkin'. Smoke is coming outta them ears," Jesse says. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo steals a piece of his bacon for the insult. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse scoots his plate further away from him, lifting his brows pointedly. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh no,” Hanzo deadpans, “I am injured and cannot cook for myself.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve seen you do enough one-armed pull-ups in your time here to know<em> that’s </em>some bullshit,” Jesse replies, swigging the last of the dredges of coffee in his cup. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his forearm muscles flexing at the movement. “You’re spoiled.” </p><p> </p><p>“I am,” Hanzo agrees easily, drawing his gaze away from the sturdy line of his arm just to see if Jesse’s eyes go dark when he looks at him. </p><p> </p><p>They do. </p><p> </p><p>“Boy, I would<em> not </em>have wanted to work under you when<em> you </em>were the prince of<em> your </em>mafia,” he says, but scoots the plate toward Hanzo anyway. </p><p> </p><p>It smells delicious and Hanzo knows for a <em> fact </em>that Jesse cooks well. He’s been roped into cooking community dinner too many times not to. One look at Lúcio’s pouting face and McCree ends up making meals for the entire Watchpoint. </p><p> </p><p>To be fair, it’s hard to say no to Lúcio. </p><p> </p><p>“Why? I look<em> very </em>good in a suit. That seemed to be enough for most people,” he comments before biting into another thick slice of bacon. He<em> loves </em>his traditional Japanese breakfast, but he can’t deny the novelty of an American meal, especially one he didn’t have to cook himself. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse barks out a laugh. </p><p> </p><p>“Is that what inspires loyalty to the yakuza? A tight pair of pants?” </p><p> </p><p>The eggs are slightly crisped on the outside, over-medium on the yolk. It’s salted to perfection and tastes even better on a browned piece of sourdough. </p><p> </p><p>He remembers trying to cook for himself when he was on the run. He hadn’t been<em> bad </em>at it but he hadn’t really<em> cared </em>to be good at it. Eating was simply another chore in the long-list of things meant to keep him alive— a commitment he wasn’t even sure he wanted to keep at the time. </p><p> </p><p>His meals had been bland and tasteless, nothing at all like this rich assortment of flavors that bursts to life on his tongue. </p><p> </p><p>“Some men prefer tits,” Hanzo counters, licking yolk from the corner of his mouth and thrilling at the way McCree’s eyes follow the movement. </p><p> </p><p>Jesse is a natural flirt, seductive words flowing from his tongue like he was born speaking the language of love. He knows exactly how to quirk his mouth to look rogueish, how to lid his eyes to change the look in them into something dark and promising. Like Hanzo, he uses this knowledge as a weapon, has honed his craft into something offensive. </p><p> </p><p>Even if it’s not real, having it turned on<em> him </em>still makes his heart race a little faster.  </p><p> </p><p>“Well, you aren’t in short supply of that,” he says lowly, propping his elbows on the table so he can lean forward. </p><p> </p><p>“I must admit, I <em> am </em>intrigued by the thought of you on your knees,” Hanzo answers, trying not to laugh at the way Jesse’s eyebrows lift to the middle of his forehead. “You would’ve been very loyal, I’m sure.” </p><p> </p><p>“Now that ain’t <em> right </em>—” </p><p> </p><p>“Whacha talkin’ about?” a rather feminine voice asks from behind. </p><p> </p><p>“Nothing for them young ears to hear,” McCree mutters, throwing himself back into his chair with his arms crossed. </p><p> </p><p>Is he pouting? That’s cute. </p><p> </p><p>“Ooh,” Hana coos, “were you flirting?” </p><p> </p><p>“Naw, Hanzo here was terrorizing me, that’s all.” Jesse shoots her a boyish grin and she smiles back, looking more like a satisfied cat than McCree usually does. </p><p> </p><p>“So he <em> was </em> flirting?” </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo sighs heavily, stabbing a perfectly fried potato with all the force of his frustration. Hana pulls out a chair and places her literal tray of breakfast down in front of her. It’s a somewhat standard Korean fare for any time of day— fermented cabbage, rice, grilled fish, banchan, and what looks like some sort of broth soup. </p><p> </p><p>If he weren’t almost full, he’d be tempted to steal from her too. </p><p> </p><p>He used to do that to Genji when they were children— when they visited Rikimaru, sat upon the stools with their too-short legs dangling. Hanzo would always go for the pork, reaching lightning-fast into Genji’s bowl and laughing at the way he’d try to get it back. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m<em> so </em>glad I made a big batch of kimchi the other day! I love eating snacks but sometimes you just have to go back to your roots!” she says, digging in with enthusiasm. </p><p> </p><p>Her diet is usually pretty atrocious. He thinks she subsists on her own merch alone, which is an appalling mix of chips, sodas, candies, and instant pre-packaged foods. How she hasn’t collapsed from malnourishment alone Hanzo attributes to her own force of will. </p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t know,” Jesse says pointedly as Hanzo takes another bite of sourdough breakfast toast. </p><p> </p><p>“Wow, even geriatrics can bully one another,” Hana says, drawing scowls from both of her tablemates. She giggles, crossing her thumb and forefinger into a heart shape. As if that will save her. Pah. </p><p> </p><p>“It is not bullying if McCree offered.” </p><p> </p><p>Jesse narrows his eyes at him. </p><p> </p><p>“Aww, that’s so sweet! Why don’t you ever make <em> me </em> breakfast, McCree?”  </p><p> </p><p>“<em>You </em>get enough outta me for dinner. Why don’t <em> you </em> make <em> me </em> some o’ that kimchi?” Jesse asks, stretching his long legs out underneath the table. His feet land in between Hanzo’s and he knocks a boot against the inner side of his ankle. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know how to cook,” she answers seriously. </p><p> </p><p>“Now<em> you </em>are bullying the geriatrics,” Hanzo says, placing his fork on his now empty plate. If it weren’t demeaning, he might be tempted to lick the said plate. </p><p> </p><p>“Oops!” she says, laughing. She’s very prone to that— smiling, giggling, trying to make other people laugh. Others in her position might crumble under the pressure to be near perfect in public, to have the weight of a nation on her shoulders. Hanzo himself hadn’t been able to handle leading a crime syndicate, let alone spear-heading the protection of an entire country. </p><p> </p><p>Instead of folding when things get tough, she takes everything in stride and keeps her chin held high. It’s commendable and Hanzo respects her for her tenacity, especially because she shows so much care to those around her. Her devilish teasing aside, that is. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, shit,” Jesse says, glancing back from the clock hanging on the wall. “I gotta get going. My turn for mail pickup.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes! I’ve been waiting <em> forever</em>!” Hana complains around a mouthful of food. “I’ve got a new game coming in!” </p><p> </p><p>Jesse winks at her, grabbing his coffee cup and then stopping by to pick up Hanzo’s empty plate too. Hanzo reaches out to touch his forearm, making him pause and look down at him in question. </p><p> </p><p>“It was delicious. Thank you for the meal,” Hanzo says, offering a genuine smile. Jesse stares at him for a moment, eyes roving over his features before he grins in return, something that makes Hanzo’s throat convulse as he swallows. </p><p> </p><p>“Anytime,” he answers. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo watches him walk away, the way his shirt stretches tight across his shoulders, the way his hips sway—</p><p> </p><p>“Sooooo flirting,” Hana whispers a little too loudly. Hanzo rolls his eyes. “Ooh, <em>c’mon</em> <em>Oji-san</em>! I think it’s really cute. So does Lúcio!” </p><p> </p><p>“Stop gossiping about your teammates.” </p><p> </p><p>“Ugh,” she laments, dropping her head to the table before she looks back up at Hanzo, her lips formed into an exaggerated pout. “It’s the only thing stopping us from going<em> crazy </em>here. I love streaming but it’s also part of my job. Gotta keep up my popularity, y’know? Publicity!” </p><p> </p><p>“Hn.” </p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, it’s so boring but if you add a little<em> spice</em>?? For instance, I know for a fact that Reinhardt has a <em> thing </em>for Ana. She plays hard to get but I think she likes him too!” </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo keeps silent but it’s not like he has anything else to do but listen. It’s not like he’s<em> interested </em>in this meaningless conjecture. </p><p> </p><p>“—and of<em> course </em> Fareeha has a <em> huge </em>crush on Dr. Ziegler! I don’t even think Dr. Ziegler knows— she’s<em> way </em>too married to her work. Poor Fareeha doesn’t know<em> how </em>to act around her. It’s <em> kinda </em> funny—” </p><p> </p><p>Does Ana know of this crush of hers? Of course, she does. He’ll have to ask her sometime over tea. </p><p> </p><p>“—but Lúcio doesn’t have any room to talk because Baptiste—”</p><p> </p><p>The proximity and consequent isolation of a living at a secret base must be getting to everyone. There are not many people on base so they’re all latching onto the most attractive thing and going crazy about it. </p><p> </p><p>“—so that’s why Mr. Morrison is in love with Reaper.” </p><p> </p><p>Wait, what? </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>After breakfast, Hanzo accompanies Hana to the training room to oversee her simulation results. He<em> would </em>normally join her but with his arm still on the mend (and the Hanahaki growing more prevalent every day that passes), all he can do is observe. </p><p> </p><p>He’s been working with her when he can on target accuracy when she detonates her mech, running mock-ups on situations and seeing which placement renders the most “kills”. </p><p> </p><p>She’s getting a lot better at it and he’s proud to have her as a student of sorts. </p><p> </p><p>At first, when she’d approached him on the subject, he’d been wary. He had never been a teacher before— a <em> ruler</em>, yes. A teacher? Absolutely not. His own teachers had been strict, callous, and<em> demanding </em>of perfection. They had not been afraid of corporal punishment. In fact, perhaps they had looked for the opportunity to take their frustrations out on Hanzo and Genji both, under the guise of discipline.</p><p> </p><p>The longer Hanzo is away from the <em> Shimada-gumi</em>, the more he realizes how truly <em> fucked up </em>the whole syndicate had been. They had all wanted to kill each other, had wanted to take the power for themselves. There had not been a sacred relationship in the whole of Shimada castle— not in friendship and certainly not in kinship. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes the anger is so blinding Hanzo has to find the nearest cliff face to scream from. </p><p> </p><p>“For real, though,” Hana says, as she checks her weapon, bringing Hanzo back into the moment. “<em>Do </em> you like McCree?” </p><p> </p><p>That makes him want to laugh. </p><p> </p><p>Does he<em> like </em> McCree? He is<em> literally </em>dying over his love for the man. Not that Hana would have any way of knowing that, but the question is strangely funny with the knowledge of it. </p><p> </p><p>“I won’t take part in your strange drama, Miss Song,” he says, crossing his arms for good measure. </p><p> </p><p>“Your refusal to answer might as well be the answer itself!” she shouts, cackling when Hanzo rolls his eyes. “I really do think it’s cute! You would be good for each other.” </p><p> </p><p>“Your opinion on our non-existent love-life is noted.”</p><p> </p><p>She giggles, tapping quickly on the simulation screen before entering her mech with practiced agility. </p><p> </p><p>“Ready to fuck it up, Athena!” she calls out, prompting Hanzo to shake his head as she flies into the training area. </p><p> </p><p>Still, he watches her frankly impressive response time and keeps an eye out for flaws, ready to report to her at the end of the session. Her self-awareness has improved greatly but there are still areas where enemy targets have clear shots at her without her being wise to it. </p><p> </p><p>His mind strays back to his earlier thought, wondering if he’s been too harsh on Hana as a student and as a friend. Obviously, his experience with real friendships is severely lacking, so there are times when he is just<em> lost </em>when navigating the finer details of a relationship with someone. </p><p> </p><p>Genji seems to have gotten the hang of it from the moment he was born, attracting people like flies to honey. There is something in his aura that<em> exudes </em>safety, even when he’d been a snake in the grass, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo had never mastered that sort of easy camaraderie. Genji had once accused him, in a fit of raw anger and biting resentment, that he was<em> untouchable.  </em></p><p> </p><p>It is hard to think of the way his eyelids had been red and swollen, how tears had slipped down his cheeks, how he bared his teeth like Hanzo was the enemy.</p><p> </p><p>Genji had always been so angry with him back then. He had wanted<em> out </em>and Hanzo should’ve listened to his silent cries for help, should have realized the way he acted out was something else entirely. </p><p> </p><p>Hana’s mech detonates with a concussive blast. </p><p> </p><p>“Double kill. <em> Triple </em>kill. <em> Quadruple kill! </em>” Athena declares, throwing up a replay on the display above. It was a good strategy— waiting until the mech was fit to break and catching the closing enemies too close to find cover. </p><p> </p><p>Hana finds him quickly afterward, looking proud of herself. </p><p> </p><p>“How’s that, Oji-san?” </p><p> </p><p>“Acceptable.” </p><p> </p><p>She blows her cheeks out into a pout. </p><p> </p><p>“Ooh, would it <em> kill </em> you to give me a compliment?” She narrows her eyes. “You compliment <em> McCree </em>all the time!” </p><p> </p><p>“That means McCree is<em> deserving </em>of praise,” he retorts, holding back his grin. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oji-saaaaan</em>,” she whines, stomping her foot. </p><p> </p><p>“You have done well, Hana. We will go over the replay to show you the ways you could improve but your kill-rate has gone up significantly since last time. You should be proud of your hard work.” </p><p> </p><p>“Whaaat! That’s so many nice things at once! McCree should cook you breakfast <em> every </em>morning!” </p><p> </p><p>The mental image invades his mind before he can stop it: waking up next to Jesse, soft and sleep warm, safer than he’s ever felt, and actually<em> in love</em>. Jesse would lean forward to kiss his forehead just before he left the bed, careful and easy so he doesn’t wake him. Hanzo would listen to him shuffling around and he would<em> know </em>that Jesse is<em> his </em>—</p><p> </p><p>One moment, Hanzo is smiling fondly at Hana and the next moment, he is on his knees, hand pressed against his chest as he chokes. </p><p> </p><p>Hana yelps, scrambling to his side. </p><p> </p><p>"What is it?! Oji-san! Should I get Mercy?" A seasoned soldier, she's already opening her mouth to alert Athena but Hanzo grabs her wrist momentarily to stop her in her tracks. </p><p> </p><p>Petals are blocking his oxygen supply. He can't get a deep breath without one catching and closing the passageways needed for air. How many others have suffered through this without an on-call doctor? <em> No</em>. Taking advantage of Angela's compassionate nature wouldn't give Hanzo any relief. Getting through this when he can is important. Soon he will be on his deathbed and will no longer have the luxury of refusal. </p><p> </p><p>Sucking in a wet, rattling breath, he exhales as hard as he can. It lodges the petals into his throat, and he gags, coughing. His throat is raw from more of the same every day, not knowing<em> which </em>thought might trigger an episode.</p><p> </p><p>Hana is hovering nearby. She's broadcasting her intentions, how she wants to reach out to him but doesn't know if it's ok to. There isn't a shred of confidence on her face, just blatant worry. </p><p> </p><p>He coughs harder, vision hazing and blurring with tears from the sharp pain, from the shuddering of his lungs. The petals catch on his tongue, <em> finally</em>, and he lets his mouth hang open, drooling blood and pieces of corolla onto the cold ground below. </p><p> </p><p>Greedily gulping air into his abused lungs, he wipes at his eyes, knuckles the edges of his mouth with the back of his hand as he recovers. He’s shaky as he sits up into<em> seiza</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Hana has gone silent, and she stares at the mess on the floor blankly. </p><p> </p><p>“Oji…” she starts, tapering off. “Let me… I can clean this.”</p><p> </p><p>She moves quickly, her limbs jerking almost robotically as she finds the supply closet and grabs things to clean up with. Hanzo can see her swallowing heavily, blinking over and over. </p><p> </p><p>When she bends to her knees, she gentles paper towels over the mess. It stains the white of them pink and she shudders. </p><p> </p><p>Hanzo touches her hand. She stops. </p><p> </p><p>“I—” she sips in a breath, swallowing again. </p><p> </p><p>“It is okay, Hana,” Hanzo says, more gentle than he’s ever been in his life. He didn’t think himself capable of this sort of compassion but then again, he never believed himself capable of loving anyone, either. Strange times, indeed. </p><p> </p><p>“No, it isn’t!” she says fiercely, surprising him with her vehemence. “If you get the surgery, your feelings will—”</p><p> </p><p>“I have no plans of choosing that route,” he admits, resting his hands on his thighs. </p><p> </p><p>“Then... you think there’s a chance of them loving you back?” she asks. She sounds hopeful— <em> young</em>. </p><p> </p><p>“I would not know.” </p><p> </p><p>Her mouth drops open in disbelief. “You’re… never going to tell them, are you?” Her tone is all wrong. </p><p> </p><p>“I have no plans to.”</p><p> </p><p>Hanzo sits back as she stands abruptly, looking as if she might try to fight him or maybe burst into tears. </p><p> </p><p>“You can’t just give up! What about—?” </p><p> </p><p><em> What about me? </em> She knows it’s a selfish thing to say before she even says it. She played the part of a <em> Hanahaki </em>victim in a movie. Her character, ironically, had chosen to do the very same that Hanzo is choosing— staying silent because of her surety that it was the right thing to do. It had been her choice, as it is Hanzo’s now. Hana had to understand her motivations to play the role properly. </p><p> </p><p>Knowing this, she drops back to her knees, gazing bleakly at the pink-stained paper towels. </p><p> </p><p>“I am sorry, Hana,” Hanzo says, and he is. No part of him relishes the pain he knows she will suffer when he’s gone. </p><p> </p><p>She pulls in a quivering breath and cries.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think Hana calling Hanzo "Oji-san" is such an adorable little fan creation. I've seen it in a few fics and adopted it myself while writing this chapter. I wish there were some interactions between Hanzo and Hana. I think they'd sass the shit outta each other and it would be beautiful. 🥺</p><p>Also, writing the breakfast scene made me so damn hungry.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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